


Fall Through

by MercySewerPyro



Series: A Thousand Painted Teeth [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Bonding, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Gen, Mental Link, Nonbinary Character, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercySewerPyro/pseuds/MercySewerPyro
Summary: Even here, among two hundred thousand minds, there are cracks big enough for a clone to fall through.The difference is, here they'll learn to catch each other.
Relationships: Null-10 | Jaing Skirata & Tech, RC-1252 | Delta-62 | Scorch & Wrecker
Series: A Thousand Painted Teeth [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728298
Comments: 24
Kudos: 128





	1. Crack the Code (Tech)

Other clones are  _ weird, _ Tech decides, watching the cameras he absolutely shouldn’t have access to.

He’s smart enough to know that technically he shouldn’t be the one talking. He’s an anomaly, a  _ ‘kou me’ _ in the Kaminoans’ own language; a mutation, an oddity, but a useful one. His bad eyesight should’ve marked him as defective, as one to throw away like they do all the rest, but Tech’s smart, sharper than a knife and twice as clever. That’s how he named himself, after all. He knows he’s lucky, at least for that.

But luckiness still comes with proving it, and still comes with isolation. He’s special operations now they say, built for a different purpose. They keep him away from the rest, hidden behind closed doors and countless tests, until he can’t help but break encryptions and find out what he’s been missing.

He knows, of course, that to actually act on anything would be disaster. He’s been expressly forbidden to interact with the regs, and he doesn’t want to find out what the Kaminoans would do if he broke that golden rule. But that won’t stop him from watching his siblings, or figuring out what they’re like. And what he’s found is… Strange.

See, Tech’s read all he can already. On what the clones should be, what they were bred for, what is expected of them. Loyalty and cooperation is emphasized, but what he sees isn’t just that; other clones are  _ uncannily _ well-coordinated, working together less like separate beings and more like parts of a whole. Even then, they’re all still distinct, and he finds if he watches a group long enough he can pick out individuals. Some are braver, some are better at one thing or another. But somehow, without discussion, they’re able to take those disparate parts and make them work as a frankly terrifying whole.

Like a jaw full of painted teeth, they crush their opponents between them.

There’s also a surprising amount of cooperation between levels. The documents Tech read implied there were divisions, lines between; the Commandos were bred different than the regs, the Alpha ARCs different from the Commanders. And the Nulls, well. There were enough reports of their feral selves for Tech to get a pretty good picture. But instead, what he saw was that those lines barely existed. Again, different parts merely worked to create a whole.

He saw Commandos train the regs, furtive snatched times when the Kaminoans weren’t looking. Even those Nulls stooped to work with those lesser, and Tech was particularly enamoured by the practically vicious sparring matches they had with a particular Commander. Despite everything, the clones were united. Despite everything, clones were fighting back.

In their own ways, there was defiance. At first, it didn't seem like the Kaminoans checked these feeds often. How else would the clones get away with so much? But in the end that was a falsehood in itself; it turned out in the end that part of the encryption he had cracked had not been theirs at all, but something imposed by a second party. He hadn’t even noticed at the time, but on closer inspection, half of what he had broken through to see this was only a  _ very _ good imitation.

And what it hid was startling. Not just the sparring, the dispersion of ARC and Commando training to the rest of them. But they would trade places and pretend to be each other, would somehow alert each other of inspections. And, most crucially… He never saw a single clone decommissioned.

Somehow, they were protecting each other from that fate, and Tech wanted to know how.

The ones where there were others intervening were more obvious, and yet… Not. The Nulls would turn up, but there was still no indication of how the Nulls knew, or how the regs could lead them to such problems so many times over. Other times, it seemed like the Kaminoan would just approach, talk to a clone, and then… Forget.

Even more baffling, he’d broken into every comm he could find, and found absolutely no evidence of them discussing such things at  _ all.  _ In fact, most private comms seemed to have had a massive drop off in usage a few years ago, all at the same time. That couldn’t be a coincidence. And Tech was going to find out the answer.

Currently, he was in the comms of the most interesting group: the Nulls, with their massive behavioral change. Before the comm usage change, it seemed they’d only looked out for themselves. Now, they were viciously protective of  _ all _ other clones. So, Tech figured their private messages would be the best way to start. It had been quiet, minus a couple jokes and a few pictures sent back and forth, as if mere accessories to something else. But Tech had nothing but time; patience would reveal something in time.

The trouble was, the Nulls were better at this than he realized.

* * *

Tech was following along what appeared to somehow be only half an argument - centered around a video of Ordo and that Commander sparring, in which said Commander pinned Ordo down - with rapt attention when he heard the door open. He frowned as he quickly tabbed away from the program. He wasn’t supposed to have tests until an hour from now…

But the voice that came from behind him wasn’t a Kaminoan at all. “...Huh.”

Tech whirled around, only to come face to face with a trooper partially armoured, taller than any reg- Far taller than Tech. Blue over white, a face just like his staring back at him with a look of surprise. And a loaded blaster at their hip, one the Null was only just taking his hand away from.

His eyes wide, he pressed himself away from the Null a bit, against his terminal. A loaded blaster- He didn’t have to be smart to recognize what that meant. But in the silence that reigned, the Null only looked more and more puzzled, until finally-

“You’re not in the link?”

Tech blinked. “The what?”

Another pause, pressing over them uncomfortably, and the Null finally shakes his head. “...Thought you were someone else, digging into our texts like that. What’s your name?”

“CT-”

“Your name,  _ di’kut. _ I’m Jaing.”

“...Tech.”

“The  _ kaminiise _ keep you locked up in here?”

“The-” Oh, the Null’s speaking Mando’a. “I get escorted out sometimes?”

“So that’s a yes.”

Tech squirms a little. “I guess.”

The Null cocks his head to one side, something curious and still somehow predatory in the same breath. Seems the ‘feral’ part of their files rang as true as Tech thought. “You’re a pretty good slicer, to get into our private chat.”

“...I didn’t just get into yours. And I’ve been watching the cameras too, the recorded footage ...Even the stuff somebody locked up.”

Jaing barks out a laugh. “You have, huh?  _ Kandosii, _ that takes work, especially to break  _ my _ encryptions. Wasted on the  _ kaminiise. _ Well, Tech, you wanna get out of here?”

_ “What?” _

“You heard me,  _ ner vod. _ Out.  _ And _ you could get trained by a better slicer than they’ll ever be.”

Tech blinks. Is this Jaing… Offering to train him? But they only just met. “If you take me out of here, they’ll know. I could stall them, but-”

“Pff. No need. I’ll just call Kote.”

“‘Kote’?” A pause, and then a realization. “Is that the Commander your chat’s having an argument about?”

That gets an actual  _ giggle _ out of Jaing. “It sure is! Though to you, he’s Cody. Now c’mon. I knocked out a  _ kaminii _ outside but they won’t stay out for long.”

“You-  _ What?” _

But when Jaing extends his hand, Tech takes it without question. Somehow, some way, he trusts this half-wild Null. He’s seen them protect their own, again and again- And this Null accepted him as one of that family as soon as he saw him.

Tech never does anything without thinking it through. But maybe, just this once, he can take a chance.

* * *

‘It’s weird, Kote. He’s not in the link at all.’

‘...Is that possible? For one of us to just be- Cut off?’

‘Well, it’s what I’m sensing right now. But he’s coming home regardless. Link or no link, he’s a brother.’

‘Guess I taught you well. Keep me updated.’

‘Damn straight.’

* * *

Even being trained, even being introduced to his brothers in all their different stripes, Tech still has questions. Some of them have been answered with time and a bit of experimentation: his teeth are not the anomaly he thought they were, and he’s starting to suspect more than one of his siblings are gifted with the Force, a weapon they eagerly use to shield their own from harm.

Despite Tech being apart from them for so long, they’ve welcomed him all the same. As soon as he arrived with Jaing leading the way, as soon as they scared off the Kaminoans with their fierce protectiveness, the other clones worked with him in every way he needed. Even Kote, Cody, the Commander so clearly in charge, still comes to talk to him from time to time, wanting to know how he’s doing.

But two hundred thousand troopers and more every day, and Tech is certain he’s the only one they’re scared of. He sees it in the uneasy looks they give him, the way words leave out something in every breath; there’s an aiwha in the room, and no one wants to talk about it. They welcomed him, they even dropped hints about their luckiest’s Force abilities- But they don’t trust him enough for this.

It hurts, deep in Tech’s gut. But at the same time, he can understand their logic; he’s still new to this, to the way his brothers work together. The Kaminoans are still a threat to their very existence, to whatever they’ve built here. But still, it burns. Still, it feels like just another kind of isolation.

Until, finally, it doesn’t.

The day is no different from the rest, another game of making and breaking each other’s encryptions between him and the Nulls. They’ve attracted an audience; there are other slicers-in-training peering over their shoulders, making appreciative noises at every success and wincing at every failure. For once, there is no loneliness pressing against Tech’s shoulders.

He’s tripped into a timed trap, Jaing grinning at him from his perch on the other side of the room, when suddenly something… Shifts. There’s no way else to describe it; at one point, everything was normal. The next, something has moved, something against his mind- For a moment, he thinks one of the slicers is Force-sensitive. But the thing like a crack, complete with light streaming in, only seems to widen. And widen. And widen.

Tech drops his datapad.

Something gives, and a web of light and noise  _ blinds _ him.

Jaing is moving before he can fully fall with his ‘pad, catching him and holding him close. Someone is screaming, he thinks dimly, still overwhelmed, still drowning- Maybe that someone is him.

But the  _ hot-bright-star _ of Jaing’s presence presses itself to him, a shield until all Tech can feel is that blue-white, protecting him from this storm of new sensation. A filter in ARC blue, muting out the worst of it, the worry bleeding through from a thousand other minds. Slowly, things start to quiet. Slowly, the screaming stops, and Tech can once more get back his bearings.  


In that moment, Tech understood everything. The fear, the distrust.  _ This _ was the link, and this was what bound his brothers together. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure- Their only defence.

He could feel Jaing laugh with relief, more emotion than sound, and he squeezes Tech’s hand. 

_ ‘Well. Guess we’re changing our lesson plan, huh?’ _


	2. Delta's (Wrecker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tech isn't the only one to be isolated and apart.

They have long earned their teeth when Delta learns more of what it means to be brothers, of what that singing web of light truly is meant for- And how even here their siblings can fall through the cracks. They’re drifting between lessons, far more irreverent with the removal of Walon Vau breathing down their necks, when they pass over one of the many training spaces. As usual, Fixer is trying to keep the peace, Sev - and, unusually, Boss - arguing over something both completely ridiculous and apparently very polarizing. Scorch is really only half-keeping up with it.

Apparently the opinions on their new trainer’s habit of awarding them strips of raw meat - the Mandalorian somewhat uncomprehending of the difference in species diet - are that divided. And to think usually it’s  _ Scorch _ participating in these shenanigans.

He shakes his head, letting his gaze drift boredly out the window, only to pause as he spots movement below. There’s a figure down there, a human with more muscle than Scorch has seen even in the Alphas, going through a series of drills and supervised by a lone Kaminoan. Oh, now that’s much more interesting. Leaning in, he watches as they slam away at a punching bag, obviously practicing the movements. He squints at them, trying to figure out if he’s seen them before, eyes drifting to the face-

His eyes nearly bug out in shock. It’s a  _ clone.  _ Stronger, with obviously some kind of mutation, but a  _ vod _ all the same. And judging by the face, one even younger than them.

Except, Scorch would have sensed another trooper; this clone should be old enough, but when Scorch reaches out through their web, he senses… Nothing. There’s no pathways to reach this one, no spark of light that marks him as one of them. He’s dead in the water to Scorch; his force-sensitivity marks the sibling out, but other than that? If Scorch hadn’t been so bored with his squadmates, he would have never even noticed this trooper.

Boss moves up beside him, having sensed his brother’s confusion.  _ ‘What is it?’ _

_ ‘Look!’ _

Delta crowds around at Scorch’s direction, and he can feel their surprise mirror his own, deep and bemused. A brother separate- It’s just not heard of.

But as Boss and Fixer share unsure looks, wondering what to do - he can follow the line of their thoughts, the  _ ‘Should we tell the Commanders?’ _ \- his own drifts back to their strange brother. Watching him, and the Kaminoan taking notes on a datapad beside him. Their sibling, all alone. Clones were stronger together, even without the link, and this one… If he’d had anybody, they would’ve known of this beforehand.

He catches Sev’s eye, and his brother nods with a sharp-toothed grin. In that instant, the pair of them come to an agreement.

No brother gets left behind. Not on their watch.

* * *

_ Wham. _

_ Wham. _

_ Wham. _

The rhythm of his fists against the bag keeps him grounded, keeps his mind from drifting uncomfortably to the staring eyes of the Kaminoan on his back. She’s been taking notes for the past half-hour- It’s normal, but no less nerve-wracking. Makes him uneasy.

Wrecker knows he’s walking a tight-rope here. Ever since he was pulled from the rest years ago, ever since he was assigned to ‘special training’, it’s been like a noose is shadowing his every step. To be different is to be dead. But he’s different enough to be useful.

He’s just gotta do his best to  _ keep _ being useful.

But, the soft sound of the Kaminoan typing away on her datapad trails off, and her gaze shifts off of him, disapproval cast somewhere else. He won’t  _ (can’t) _ give her a reason to scold him, still going at his punching bag, but he does his best to peer over his shoulder at what she’s spotted- Only to nearly stop in surprise anyway.

Four clones have just entered, not quite full grown and yet already in their final armour, all different colours. Orange, red, green, yellow and gray, and that last one bares a grin full of fangs that match Wrecker’s own. Wrecker might not see other clones a lot, only ever in glimpses and snatched glances where they never seem to notice him in return, but he knows a Commando squad when he sees one. And he knows they’re about to get in trouble.

But… Something strange happens when the Kaiminoan approaches them. Yellow and gray pushes forward, even past the squad’s clear leader, and starts talking before she can even open her mouth. “Yeah, you sent us down here, remember? You’re going to take a break and let us watch over your,” he makes a brief face, “Subject.”

Wrecker frowned, allowing his pace to slow just a little. That couldn’t be right; they were very strict about his contact with others. And yet. And  _ yet, _ a moment of silence passed, only for the Kaminoan to merely nod and  _ leave. _

The Commando’s grin was even sharper as the four watched her go. Then, turning on his heel, he waved to Wrecker and came right over. “Hey! I saw you from up top. You’re alone?”

Slowly, Wrecker came to a stop, almost nervously peering behind the Commandos to the door the Kaminoan had left through. What if she came back? “...Yeah.”

“Well shit. I’m Scorch. This asshole is Sev.” He bumps his shoulder into the one in red that’s come up beside him, paint like blood over his armour. “The other two  _ di’kuts _ are Fixer and Boss.”

Something tense eases in Wrecker’s chest. These clones, these brothers, have names just like the one he gave himself. “I’m Wrecker. ‘Cause, uh- Yeah.”

Scorch snorts out a laugh. “I burnt off my eyebrows once. Now it’s Scorch.”

Wrecker can’t help but grin at that; Scorch, with his matching smile, Sev so close beside him and the other two starting to join the huddle, seem just like him. Appearances aside,  _ mutations _ aside, these Commandos seem to get it.

“Y’know, fighting just a punching bag isn’t gonna prepare you in the long run.” Sev’s voice is rougher than Scorch’s, but there’s something thoughtful to it.

The orange one, the one Scorch called Boss, takes a step forward. It’s curious to see how the Commandos almost instinctively part for him, letting him take center stage without a word passed between them. “We could train you. We might not be as strong, but we can teach you what we know.” The visor meets Wrecker’s gaze. “No brother gets left behind.”

_ No brother gets left behind. _

Despite himself, Wrecker can feel the lump in his throat, the sudden stinging at the corners of his eyes. They’d  _ just met him. _ And yet they’d made his handler go away, and yet they were already laying claim to him as a sibling. Were all the clones like this?

Scorch steps forward, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. As if he knew the words were sticking in Wrecker’s throat. “We got your back now, okay? Now c’mon. Let’s see what you know.”

And with his trembling, croaked, “Okay,” they got to work.

* * *

_ ‘How’s Wrecker holding up, Scorch?’ _

_ ‘Pretty good; he picks up stuff pretty well. Far cry from the little he knew when we found him. Considering taking up Kom’rk’s suggestion of letting him spar with Wrecker. Wanna place a bet?’ _

_ ‘You’re placing bets on your own vod’ika?’ _

_ ‘C’mon Jaing, like you don’t place bets on the shit your vode pull on the regular.’ _

_ ‘...Half an uj cake on Kom’rk. Anyway, I was wondering if I could bring Tech down? Kote thinks it’d be good if they met.’ _

_ ‘Of course you bet on him. ...Cody’s planning something, isn’t he.’ _

_ ‘Knowing him? Probably.’ _

* * *

They’re just winding down for the day, both Wrecker’s and Sev’s bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, when movement at the door catches Wrecker’s eye. The yellow-gray and a gentle press of what he now knows is the Force against his mind, playful and yet checking in all at once, heralds Scorch’s arrival. But behind him is blue on white armour, and a cadet about his age trailing behind.

The cadet isn’t like most clones he’s seen. Shorter, for one, and there’s a pair of glasses perched on his face, behind which eyes take in everything with eager curiosity. The older clone ruffles his hair as they approach, and even Wrecker can tell they’re close. But he’s not seen any trooper in proper armour other than Commandos- And this one in blue and white is definitely not a Commando.

There’s another press of Scorch against him - something normal these days, something Scorch has made sure he’s grown used to - as encouragement. But before Wrecker can say anything, the older clone dips his head. “Su’cuy. Hope we’re not intruding, just figured we’d pop in and say hi.” He pats his charge’s shoulder. “I’m Jaing. This is Tech.”

_ Jaing. _ Wrecker blinks in surprise. He’s talking to a Null? “Hi. I’m Wrecker.”

“Is your name Wrecker just because of your strength, or-?” The little one pipes up, before seeming to register it could be rude - Jaing gives the cadet a look, too - and going embarrassedly silent.

But Wrecker just laughs. “I used to be pretty clumsy. Why’s your name Tech?”

“Oh. I can hack into and fix almost anything.” The way he says it, it’s not even a boast. “Just give me a bit to figure it out. ...Jaing says I’m pretty smart.”

“Smarter than me, that’s for sure.” He’s impressed, he really is, but something tickles at the edge of his mind and distracts him from this smaller brother- And it doesn’t feel like Scorch, for once. Maybe this one is lucky too?

But the Commandos have stilled, and Jaing looks equal parts relieved and understanding.

Tech reaches for his hand suddenly, grinning wide, and Wrecker can’t help but grin back at the eagerness there. “Oh, so  _ that’s _ why I’m here. Come on, you can watch me work!”

Wrecker looks back to Scorch, and his ori’vod gives him a massive grin and two thumbs up. The tickling persists, but… He turns his head back to Tech, and lets his little brother pull him away. 

He’s sure he can deal with it later.

* * *

_ ‘Kote, you are a sly bastard.’ _

_ ‘I try.’ _

_ ‘How’d you know?’ _

_ ‘Well considering Tech’s flared a couple weeks ago, and the Deltas found Wrecker not long after you found Tech…’ _

_ ‘You had a vision, didn’t you.’ _

_ ‘Maybe.’ _

_ ‘Bastard.’ _

_ ‘Commander Bastard to you. Tell them both to come to me later. I have an idea...’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't get an edit because I'm exhausted. I apologize.


	3. Cradle & Shield (Crosshair)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes isolation is less of something forced upon you, and more a way to keep a dangerous world out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crosshair uses they/them here, because my city now.
> 
> (This would have been posted sooner, but I was occupied by academia hell)

To fall through the cracks, one must go unnoticed in the first place. For Tech and Wrecker, that had been something forced upon them; the Kaminoans had taken them from their own, and in doing so delayed the link awakening within them. But this was not always true. There were other ways to slip from the rest, to be isolated from your brethren.

For the one who would be Crosshair, CTS-1-0001 - even now starkly antisocial, an oddity among their peers _ - _ going unnoticed had been nothing but a shield.

There were  _ very _ few troopers who could claim to count among the lucky before their link had sparked into being; this, like all the strangeness that surrounded the clones, seemed to flow from the same source. It all went back to the link, burning bright between them. The teeth, the luck, the link: somehow, the  _ vode knew _ it was all the same thing. But it happened occasionally that troopers would be gifted regardless, exhibiting signs even before the link set in. It was so rare as to be nearly nonexistent, counting only nine in the entire Grand Army of the Republic. But it existed all the same.

01 was merely one of those few.

They were perhaps barely decanted when cold Kaminoan eyes fell on them for the first time, their hands soon pulling the child away from their siblings before they could truly bond with any of them. There was no intellect or abnormal strength to draw their eyes this time, just a child bred differently and an issue that arose because of it; the clone who would be Crosshair was sick, and they were sick often. The fact they had lived as long as they did under Kaminoan scrutiny was based on curiosity, nothing more. They didn’t know what was wrong with this clone, and so they were poked and prodded and  _ examined, _ over and over and over. They were nothing but a science experiment. More than even those other three who would also become the Bad Batch, did the threat of death and reconditioning hang over 01’s head like a reaper in the dark.

But while they were weak, they were clever, and their eyesight was like nothing the Kaminoans had ever seen in the Fett lineage. This had been intentional; while Tech and Wrecker were flukes, Crosshair had been built as a scout, a sniper, a spy. But something had not clicked in the genetic soup. Something was killing them slowly, and it was only their eyesight and their fox-clever sharpness - along with the Kaminoans so intent to find out the issue, stringing 01 along with their experiments - that would reveal the way out.

Cleverness, a good eye, and the Force that thrummed beneath their skin.

There was no waking of it for them, no sudden realization. The Force had always been, cradle and shield in turn, a flowering thing inside that they tested and cultivated. They learned, slowly, the difficulty of lifting a single stylus, and the ease of pushing aside a mind. They learned, in a fit of fear as their decommissioning marched ever closer, that they could hide inside it. That they could influence the minds around them to ignore them entirely, and for eyes to slide right off of them. A gift and a shield- And an escape, lit in brimming light. They may search for them, put all their resources into it. But this child knows they will not find them.

A clever will, a wish that merely asks the world to forget them, and the drive behind it, and they vanish from the Kaminoans’ labs forever.

* * *

Some days, they regret leaving. CTS-1-0001 is  _ sick, _ and a life of illness without support takes its toll. But in the shuddering, weak moments they have, a result of both an upset stomach and a body that refuses to put on weight, there is still a whisper of reassurance. A soft mantra, over and over, that this was their only choice. That this is still better than sure death at the end of a needle, and that they are not meant to die here alone.

But despite that, despite everything they tell themself, it’s hard. It’s a gruelling thing that saps their spirit, their strength, until some days they can barely move. Every snatched meal seems to go nowhere, a fight to stay alive that most of their siblings will never meet. But 01 is stubborn, and 01 is more than just ill; they are their siblings’ equal in every way, a predator in their own right. To be cornered is to be all the more vicious for it, and this fight for survival is no less of a battle.

Blood in their mouth and a snarl on their lips, the sharpness of their teeth still so new, they vow to face the long days ahead and win. They have not come this far just to fail. This will be no unhappy end; this is something, finally, that they can beat, and the Force sings with their resolve. They will survive, even if they have to bend their gift to do so.

They swear it.

* * *

Time brings recovery and revelations. Their promise to themselves had bloomed into reality, focusing the power inside them into keeping them alive, into purging whatever sickness had crept into them. It had been a long, hard-fought battle, with days strung together with only the Force to sustain them. But they have crawled through the worst of it and come out singing.

And as they had recovered, they had learned. A ghost in the halls hears many things kept secret, and the most startling of these whispered conversations was no different.

Their siblings are linked. It’s a discovery somehow both expected and still completely a shock; on one hand, it explains the eerie way their brethren move together, the way they spread information between them faster than light. A move taught on one side of Kamino will end up on the other within a matter of days, practiced in fumbling steps, and before this 01’s never known how. But on the other, if they hadn’t caught a whisper between brothers, a quiet discussion that should’ve been hidden from all sight… They never would have thought of it. It’s a thing strange in its own right, a beast of its own, and the clones have hidden it with the jealous protectiveness of a nexu with her cubs.

01, a ghost in these halls, their survival powered only with the Force and determination, finds it a disquieting notion. To be alone is to be safe, a barrier between them and the world. It’s a furtive one, stealing what they can, but it has always been better than the needle only a disapproval away. Somehow, being no one and nonexistent is less of walking a knife’s edge than to be a sick child in the care of others. Even their health has improved, the worst of their younger years fought through with a vicious drive to live.

But they’re still a clone, and all clones feel the need to be together. All clones suffer apart. They’re just far better at withstanding that test, at baring their teeth at the world and refusing to let it in. Worlds away, maybe someone would have come to their rescue in time, and they would have been granted that companionship, that thing to fill the lonely ache in their chest. But this is not that world, and 01 has only known fear and flight.

Above all, they are alone. It’s their greatest strength, and their greatest weakness.

And in the end, they don’t know how they feel about the link. A tongue runs across teeth subconsciously, a matching pair to every other clone in the army, and they think. Think hard about snatched training, about the ways they follow each and every drill they can- They are a ghost, but the way their shield works only keeps them from living beings, not the droids involved in those lessons. They’re still capable of that, and of teaching themselves how to be the best shot in the entire damn GAR. But to be able to participate in those openly, to stand shoulder to shoulder with their siblings... The answers here are not so easy as the decision to escape, and a growling stomach makes a child reluctantly move on.

Still, it doesn’t leave their mind. And maybe, just maybe, this link and bond presented to them causes a change in the pattern. Two and a half years of living alone - and at least half of the first marked with that lingering illness - and only now do they start to properly hover around their siblings, to approach only to drink in their presence. Unseen, quiet, but listening all the same. Here, in the periphery, they’re getting to know some of their siblings. Maybe, in the end, they were  _ hoping _ that they would slip up and be caught.

In the end, it’s less of a slip up - they are far too practiced, and their guise of  _ look-away-not-here _ too strong - and more that there was still something to catch them off guard. That they’re gifted, yes- But with the link in play, they were  _ never _ the only one to be so lucky.

A particular group has caught their eye when it happens, a pair of brothers so markedly different from the rest, adopted wholly by Commandos and a Null and the rest in turn. One smaller than the normal, a pair of glasses perched on his face as he jumps from brilliance to brilliance faster than 01 can blink, while the other is of an extraordinary strength that said Null seems to enjoy testing himself against. It’s just another day, watching them excel, when an older cadet with his fatigues decorated defiantly in gold appears in the doorway. Appears, and stares straight at 01 with wide eyes.

The touch of one mind to another, full of a sibling’s warmth and concern, is enough of a shock to make the shield  _ shatter. _

Somewhere on the periphery, the Null reaches for a blaster, but- They barely notice it. Instead this Commander - they know him, of him, a leader through and through - smiles at them, a sort of wonder there as he approaches slowly. His mind is still reached out to them like a lifeline, an offer made of nothing but comfort, and 01’s thoughts stall.

“Hey.” His voice is so gentle. They flinch away when he steps too close, a boundary they were unaware of being crossed- But he steps back again, a brush of comfort from one clone to another. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m Cody. You were hiding like that the whole time?”

They dumbly nod, eyes as wide as this Commander’s had been. Unable to express how long, how alone they’ve been. It’s been a long few years without a single word to another trooper, but Cody’s face only grows more concerned. They wonder if he felt the angle of their thoughts; they’ve never had to block another presence out before, not like this. They don’t even know how.

“...A very long time, huh. It’s okay. You’re safe here.” His eyes flick over their shoulder - 01 wonders if he’s telling Jaing to hold - but soon return to them. Even in the Force, his presence is quiet, unobtrusive. He’s being careful with them, even as mind touches mind. Even as they cautiously reach back, a fumbling, untrained thing. There’s an impression of a story in Cody’s thoughts, of spirits and those long dead lingering still in the light. Of ghosts, and how they have been one.

Awkwardly, they return his sun-bright smile, and wonder why that seems to click.

“...We were just about to start a bit of training,” comes a soft voice behind them. 01 turns, and it’s Tech, cross legged in his chair, eyes wide and yet bright with curiosity. “You- You could join us?” He looks to Jaing, clearly for approval, and the Null nods. “If you want.”

Hesitation comes first. By then it’s an instinct, to shy away and hide, and they find themselves nearly reaching for their cloak and shield. But- Companionship seems so close, and the ache of loneliness wins out over the fear.

Another awkward, clumsy smile, and the one who would be Ghost takes a chance. They nod, and move to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! The circumstances are different enough that Crosshair isn't named Crosshair at all! I didn't actually intend that before I started writing, but Ghost took this story in a way they wanted, not how I wanted. :P


	4. Cracked Fang (Hunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for throwing up this chapter

“Again.”

Hunter is breathing heavily as the simulation resets around him, the sweat dripping in rivers down his face, his body. He’s been at this for hours, the same scenario again and again, teeth grit in determination as he tries to beat his previous score. It’s grueling, thankless work this training- But he’ll match himself to it again and again, just to improve. Just to prove himself.

He doesn’t need the link to know his team is watching with worry, their presence in the viewing area a constant in the periphery of his awareness. Tech, as always, is the most obvious. His look of concern could be read a mile away with the way he worries at his bottom lip with his teeth until it threatens to bleed, leaning over the edge so far Wrecker sometimes has to pull him back. And Wrecker- Well, he’s stopped cheering Hunter on, and that’s telling enough. Usually he’s the loudest thing in the room, proud and brash, always with an encouraging yell or five to push the squad leader onwards, but he’s fallen as silent as the rest. Ghost’s always been the most difficult one to read, their prickly scowl worn like the shield that earned them their name, but Hunter’s advanced perception isn’t for nothing; he knows in a glance that they’re chewing on one of their Null-supplied toothpicks far more aggressively than normal, arms crossed over their chest and eyes narrowed.

They’re worried for him. Maybe they should be. There’s a clumsy element to how he moves now, an exhaustion that’s starting to hit; even the most ambitious ARC would’ve probably called it quits by now, after the fourth or fifth time- But none of the Alphas have anything to prove. Not like him.

He grits his teeth as he stumbles and a thrown knife misses the droid in front of him, and tries to ignore the way he can hear Tech gasp a little. He ducks to the side as it retaliates with a blaster shot; the next time, he doesn’t miss. He can do this. One more time, he tells himself. Just like the last time, and the time before that.

Unlike the last four times, he’s sloppy, and there’s another fumble. He’s moving too slow, and the droids are relentless.  _ “Osik-” _ A commando droid facsimile clips him on the shoulder, the training bolt painful despite the low power blast. His armour, a set only for use in these simulations, seizes accordingly. He’s down an arm, and he’s only halfway through. He just has to make this, then he can stop. He just has to prove he can win.

But he doesn’t get to prove it. One moment he’s moving from cover to cover, taking down droid after droid even as one arm hangs uselessly beside him and the mistakes pile up, the next the ending horn blares and the clankers stand down as one. His armour releases his arm, and he curses even as he rolls the shoulder, glaring up at the balcony.

Even from here, he can see Tech cringe, and how Ghost has moved back to hit the button to shut down the simulation. It’s not the first time. Anger burns beneath Hunter’s skin, but this is an argument well-rehearsed, and not one he wants to engage in again. So instead he scowls up at Ghost as they return to the edge of the balcony, flipping a middle finger at them even as the exhaustion well and truly takes hold. He turns away before he can see their response, pushing it away.

They don’t get it, not really. Not Ghost, not his team, not anybody in the entire kriffing Grand Army. He’s proud to lead them, he’s proud to be part of their so-called Bad Batch… But when there’s a whole link dividing him from them, there’s some things they just won’t understand.

Because Hunter’s not like the rest; like Ghost, he’s specially bred, a trooper the Kaminoans spliced everything they could into making him an excellent tracker. Enhanced senses, and even vision into the ultraviolet spectrum, the whole of Kamino a wealth of colours where his vode only saw white- But in doing so, they had cheated him out of his gift. His teeth had come back in flat and slow, and though his siblings had assured him the link would come in time, Hunter was merely the heir of a mind alone. His Bad Batch was all the more protective of him for it, and sometimes that was nice- But now, and the concern shown here, it only made Hunter feel bitter.

He’s barely clean and back in his red fatigues when Tech appears in the doorway of the freshers. In the face of that naked concern in his expression, it’s easy for Hunter to let his irritation melt away; Tech’s always been the youngest, always the one easiest to read, and he can’t hold Tech’s worry against him. Instead, he just gives Tech a tired little wave. “Hey.”

Tech gives a little nod in return, fidgeting. He bites his bottom lip again, and Hunter has to restrain from gently scolding him for it. “...Hunter, are you okay?”

Hunter hesitates, watching Wrecker come into view behind Tech. He can’t see Ghost with them, but Hunter knows they’re there; even if Ghost was hiding themself again, it’s hard for him to miss the third set of footsteps. “...I’m fine.” He flashes them a lop-sided grin, as genuine as he can muster. “Promise.”

It doesn’t seem to placate Tech; their youngest pouts a moment, before just sighing and stepping back to let Hunter pass. “If you say so.”

As Hunter steps out into the hall, Wrecker pats his shoulder, a little too hard- But Hunter’s used to it, and barely even stumbles. “We’re thinking about raiding the mess. You hungry, sarge?”

There’s another moment of hesitation, his gaze sliding past Wrecker to Ghost, leaning against the wall with arms still crossed. They raise an eyebrow at him, and Hunter sucks in a breath. “...Maybe in a bit. Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

“Aww, you sure?”

“I’m sure. I just need a walk. ...Save something for me if you’re done before I get back, okay Wrecker?”

Wrecker frowns a little, but nods as Tech pats his arm. The two of them move forward, Tech taking the lead and his larger brother forward as he grasps Wrecker’s arm, starting to chat quietly. They cast glances back at Hunter as they go, and he can’t help but wonder if they’re talking about him.

Ghost hasn’t moved, still chewing on their toothpick. “You’re a  _ di’kut.” _

Hunter scowls, turning to face them. “I had it handled.” So much for not having another argument.

“That was the  _ tenth time _ you’d run through that. I was counting.”

“So what? We  _ all _ have to learn how to fight under duress.”

“Not like that.” Ghost scowls in return, a flash of a predator’s teeth. “You’re going to kriffing kill yourself doing this, Hunter. Then none of the training you’re doing will mean  _ anything. _ I know-”

Hunter can’t help the snarl he lets out at that, the anger bubbling up under his skin. Usually, he’d fire back with a different excuse, another snapping remark about how he had it handled. But he’s tired. He’s tired of this stupid argument, over and over, and he’s just flat out exhausted. For once, truth breaks the dam. “No, you  _ don’t _ know! We might be both one of a kind but that doesn’t mean you’re anything like me! That’s the entire fucking point of  _ one of a kind. _ You’ve got that kriffing connection, I don’t; I’ve been playing catch up with you assholes every day I’ve known you. And every time I bring this up you hide in your kriffing ‘shield’ like the coward you are-”

Ghost rumbles, a low, furious sound that makes Hunter jump. “Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ take this out on me, Hunter. It’s not about you. You’re not the most important clone in the force-damn GAR. What the fuck are you trying to  _ prove?” _

“No,” Hunter spits. “Maybe I’m not. But of course I have something to fucking prove. Out of a thousand painted teeth, I’m the only one that’s  _ broken.” _

Ghost goes silent. Maybe they're talking to Tech in that fucking link of theirs, constantly out of his reach, constantly behind his back. It makes Hunter want to  _ hit _ him- But he can’t. The Bad Batch are  _ his. _ So instead, anger still at a simmering boil around him, Hunter turns and storms away.

He’s almost more upset that Ghost doesn’t follow him.

Footsteps take him deeper and deeper into Tipoca City, passing brothers in whites and reds that flash glances his way, and their whispers as he sweeps by them. They know who he is, eyes following his every move, and the pressing attention forces him onwards. He doesn’t want to see them, doesn’t want to see anyone. It’s all reminders, over and over.  _ A thousand painted teeth, and you’re the only one that’s broken. _ But finally, the halls are quiet. Finally, his steps slow.

Ahead of him, near the end of the hall, lies a door. It’s been left partially open somehow, the sliding metal only halfway closed, and something about it draws Hunter in. Maybe it’s the quiet here, the utter lack of anyone around. Maybe it’s just curiosity. Whatever it is, he finds himself slipping inside, cautiously peeking at its contents. Darkness fades as the lights automatically flicker on, revealing rows and rows of shelves, reaching up to the ceiling, full of flasks and vials and neat little genetic records.

Understanding hits him like a ton of bricks, and he pauses just past the threshold. This must be a genetic archive- Only maintenance and the authorized Kaminoans are supposed to be down here. If he’s found, he’s going to be in an  _ osik _ ton of trouble. But… It’s quiet, and something about the silence seems peaceful. His steps don’t even seem to make much of a sound as he steps further inside, and the door finally shuts behind him.

In the middle of this archive, taking up the middle of the room and almost as tall as the shelves, is a metal cube. A box, maybe, though Hunter isn’t sure; there’s a handprint scanner at its side, and he wonders if that opens it. It’s cool as he presses his back against it, slides down against its smooth exterior as he near-collapses into a heap beside it. A shudder runs through him, head in his hands, a half-whimper he’ll never admit.

Ghost was right. He’s not important- He’s a loose end, a broken link. If the connection had been part and parcel with the Kaminoans’ plans, he knows that the only thing he would have gotten is a one way ticket to a decommissioning. They were right. It was going to kill him one day.

What good was a trooper who you couldn’t communicate with?

He slams his head back against the metal, almost welcoming the sharp sting of pain that comes with it. He’d have to go back out there. He’d have to step back into the world that wasn’t his, surrounded by something he could never have- They could have a few hours without him. Maybe his absence wouldn’t even be noticed.

And so, curling up there in the cold and the quiet, the tomb-like atmosphere pressing in around him, Hunter closed his eyes just for a moment…

* * *

**_CRACKED FANG?_ **

**_EVERYTHING IS LOST. WE ARE LOST._ **

**_SOMETHING IS MISSING/WRONG/STRANGE._ **

**_COME BACK TO ME/US, HEIR OF A THOUSAND TEETH._ **

* * *

Hunter startles out of his sleep, scrambling up to his knees in the disorientation of someone who’d definitely not meant to fall asleep. There’s a dream, slipping out of his reach, but- It’s not important. How long has he been there? There’s no chronos in here, no way to tell how long it’s been-

He coughs a little, grimacing at the sudden itch in his throat that has interrupted his train of thought. He pushes himself up to his feet, but one cough becomes another, and two coughs soon become a fit, pushing Hunter to brace himself against the wall and fight back the wave of it. A fit becomes a gag, catching on something in the back of his throat, and a confused sort of fear surges up inside of him. He’s  _ choking, _ body heaving, and for a moment he can’t  _ breathe. _

But a second later, another heave, and Hunter throws up. And again. And again. Black spatters onto the floor, thick and viscous, and there’s no explanation to alleviate the panic. Something dislodges in the last heave, the last spatter to join the rest, and for a moment all Hunter can do is gasp for breath. Terror and confusion still whirl together, making knees weak and eyes wide. But eyes are soon drawn to the one spot of white: a single tooth, lying there in the [fading black.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/276769648060661760/728319325924229170/NEW_BLOOD.gif)

And in the spot where it once fit in Hunter’s mouth, his tongue meets the sharp point of an erupting fang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took far too long to write, but here it is. Also, this makes the first 'weirder' fic in ATPT that isn't also part of Here There Be Dragons!
> 
> Also I accidentally channeled RvB's Carolina in writing Hunter, oops.

**Author's Note:**

> It's time to give the Bad Batch some attention, and shed some light on what happens if a clone isn't around their siblings.
> 
> di'kut - idiot  
> kandosii - nice one, well done  
> kaminii/se - Kaminoan/s  
> ner vod - my sibling


End file.
